


Introduction

by ksrandomme



Series: Educating Sherlock [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Gen, John is a Saint, Post-Reichenbach, S3 didn't happen, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Talk of Doms and Subs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-04
Updated: 2017-03-04
Packaged: 2018-09-28 08:42:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10081925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksrandomme/pseuds/ksrandomme
Summary: Sherlock chose to cut the argument to it’s obvious conclusion. “Imposing rules and punishments for disobeying and disrespecting is a ridiculous notion. If you require some sort of subservient for your domineering tendencies, I shall not provide it for you. There are clubs for that sort of thing.”





	

**Author's Note:**

> Proofread and edited by the wonderful Bumpkin http://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumpkin/pseuds/Bumpkin

John slammed through the flat, yanking off his coat and hanging it savagely on its hook before turning stiffly towards the kitchen and the kettle on the countertop. He punched the button to turn it on and reached up to take a mug from the cabinet where they usually keep such things. He took his time making his cup of tea, placing one bag in the bottom of the cup, pouring hot water over the time and waiting the required 30 seconds to steep before pulling the bag out and pitching it into the trash. 

During this time, Sherlock had slowly arrived at the landing to their flat and was walking into the sitting room without a word. He slipped off the Belstaff and tried to catch it before it hit the floor. He missed. His back was killing him and he figured his left ankle was quite twisted up. He mentioned none of this as John marched past him to sit in his accustomed chair next to the fireplace. Sherlock glanced back at the Belstaff and made a calculated decision of leaving it on the floor by the sofa and walking over to his own chair across from John. He turned and sat carefully on the edge, attempting not to put any weight on his injured ankle. John watched him.

After waiting a moment while sipping his tea, John set the cup to the side and reached out his hands, “Give me the ankle, let me look at it.”

Sherlock tried to keep the grateful look off his face as he slipped his shoes off and lifted his left leg onto John’s lap. He leaned back carefully to balance himself in the chair so his bum didn’t slide off and hit the floor while John examined his sore ankle. The deft, sure fingers of the Doctor’s fingers manipulated Sherlock’s foot back and forth, up and down, gently massaging the ankle bones and checking for bruising. Sherlock fought to keep his eyes open and not to moan at the exquisite feeling of rightness that John’s manipulations were bringing to his skin.

Finally John released his foot and reached down to set it firmly on the ground. “Sprain, nothing serious. Try to keep off it for a couple days, yeah?”

Sherlock nodded silently as he shifted back into his chair carefully. His back was still sore from the light drop he had neglected to account for in his headlong chase to catch the jewel thief he had been tracking for three days. John had been right behind him and saw the fall. It was a five story building. Sherlock had landed on his back on the window washer’s rig, next to the thief, who had known the rig was there and had been attempting to use the two man rigging to escape. Because the man had had to run from one side of the frame to the other to let the lines out, Sherlock had landed on him in the middle. 

John had had a near panic attack by the time Sherlock had managed to climb the rigging back up after handcuffing the thief to the rig. As Sherlock had lifted a leg over the side, John was breathing rapidly and saying over and over again, “No, no, no, no.”

It had taken some few minutes to calm John back down again, and in that time Lestrade and the crew had reached the roof and were taking custody of the thief. Sherlock was leaned up against the edge of the roof, sitting on his bum and staring at John, who was pacing back and forth and cussing up a storm. When Lestrade had asked if they were alright, Sherlock had waved him off and said he was fine. That seemed to snap John out of whatever fog he had been in, he glared at Sherlock and without a word left the roof.

Sherlock had been expecting to have to find a cab and make his way home alone, so he was surprised to see John still waiting for him downstairs at the kerb, having just caught a cab and was holding the door for him to climb painfully inside. The ride to Baker street had been made in silence, but John’s anger was almost palpable from the other side of the cab and Sherlock wisely kept his mouth shut the entire time.

Now that they were home and John had his tea and was reassured that Sherlock had not done any lasting damage to himself, Sherlock knew that the next to come would be the argument. John would be upset that Sherlock had risked his life leaping without looking first after the jewel thief. Sherlock would rejoin with the defence that he knew what he was doing, he just hadn’t expected John to be sensitive still. John would spit back at Sherlock that he was irresponsible and reckless and one day he wasn’t going to be able to climb back over the wall, alive and well.

Sherlock chose to cut the argument to it’s obvious conclusion. “Imposing rules and punishments for disobeying and disrespecting is a ridiculous notion. If you require some sort of subservient for your domineering tendencies, I shall not provide it for you. There are clubs for that sort of thing.”

John blinked, mouth wide open in shock for a moment before he closed it again and swallowed. He left out his breath in a huff and reached up to wipe his brow with one hand, the other still holding his tea. He looked away a moment, his eyes hooded and brows drawn together in thought. When he looked back, Sherlock began to suspect he had said the wrong thing.

For one thing, John was smiling. Outright grinning, in fact. Sherlock frowned at the other man until John chuckled lightly. Arching an eyebrow Sherlock asked, “What do you find amusing, John?”

John shook his head with a gentle smile on his face before he replied, "Your terminology is off, in the clubs you are talking about it's not subservient. Submissive. And Dominant, not domineering.”

Sherlock shrugged, “What’s the difference? It’s rules and punishment for breaking the rules.”

John sighed and wiped a hand down his face, drawing his fingers along his chin and dropping his eyes. “The difference is rather more important than you think. For one, the term Dominant is misleading. In a relationship where one person acts superior over another, there are terms and limits established before they play. In truth, the Submissive holds much more power by placing so much trust in the Dominant to learn the limits and stick to them.”

Sherlock frowned as he thought this over. John leaned forward slightly and rested his hand on Sherlock’s knee. “There are some couples who do put rules and consequences in their lives, but I’m not really into that.”

Sherlock blinked at those last words, his mouth opening slightly into his normal ‘O’ shape that signaled he had just figured something out. Then he snapped it shut just as quickly. He went to stand up and march away from John, but his ankle folded under him with the first bit of weight and it took John grabbing him around the middle and standing abruptly to keep Sherlock from falling all the way to the floor.

“Hold on, there. Where are you going?” John asked as he steadied Sherlock and got one of the lanky man’s arms over his shoulder and along his back. Sherlock rolled his eyes and disentangled himself from John in order to flop back into his armchair with a huff.

“Nevermind.” he groused as John hesitantly sat Sherlock back in his chair. Continuing with disdain, Sherlock said, “Well, you appear to be more knowledgeable in this area than I first gave you credit for, John. I’ll be sure to remember that the next time I have such a case which involves aspects of the Bondage lifestyle. Perhaps you could give me pointers on how to act when I need to enter one of the clubs.” He relaxed in his chair and stared off, cutting the conversation off completely. John wasn’t mad at him anymore, that was all that mattered.

John sat in his chair, chuckling again. It rankled Sherlock, who snarled, “What? What are you laughing about now?”

John covered his face with his hands as he leant forward to place his elbows on his knees, and then pulled his hands down to show only his eyes full of mirth. Sherlock scowled at him, which simply set him off once again. Sherlock waited until the other man finally wound down from the laughing, and then raised an eyebrow in question. John shrugged.

“You can never go into a club like that on your own, Sherlock.”

Sherlock sat up abruptly and glared across at John, nearly nose to nose with him. “I can go where I please, John!” he spat. “And no one can tell me otherwise. I’m a grown man, regardless of how you may think of me.”

John raised his hands as if in surrender, attempting to placate Sherlock and smooth the ruffled feathers. He was also shaking his head minutely as he rested a hand on Sherlock’s knee. “Sherlock, it would be a bad idea to go into one of those clubs. Someone might see you and think you were available and you’ld get no information whatsoever. The only way you would be safe is to have a collar on, and any Dom or Domme who had you collared still wouldn’t let you go alone.”

Sherlock blanched, startled by John’s words. He regained his composure rapidly and questioned, “Might I not go as a Dom, myself?”

John grinned, “Never work, Mate. They’d spot you as prey immediately.”

“You are implying,” Sherlock began, each word deliberately spoken in precise english to express his disbelief in John’s assertion, “that I would come across as a ‘submissive’?”

John regarded him frankly before answering, “Not implying, stating an obvious fact.”

Sherlock snorted rather inelegantly and turned his head away. “John, I like to be in control of my own mind and body, thank you very much. You’ve seen how strict I am with everything I do. I don’t allow my body to dictate to me about such tedious things as eating, sleeping or sexual desire while on a case. It slows the mind down.”

John snorted almost in exactly the same manner, which brought Sherlock’s head around of its own volition. John knew he had Sherlock’s attention because he leaned forward and whispered, “That’s one of the reasons I know you have submissive tendencies. Even Irene Adler saw it. Why do you think she was so keen to have you?”

“Because she wanted sex with a brilliant mind.” Sherlock replied instantly. John shook his head. Sherlock frowned and asked, “What?”

“She wanted to break you. You were a challenge that she was willing to cross her own sexual orientation to have. And if it weren’t for me, she would have had you.” John leaned back in his chair and watched the play of emotions on Sherlock’s face.

“You’re a Dom.” Sherlock announced out of the blue. John nodded.

“Yes I am.”

“Then why didn’t you act like it when we first met her?” Sherlock asked. John rolled his eyes before answering.

“Sherlock, where were we?”

“In The Woman’s house.” came the answer. John nodded and waited for Sherlock to get it. It didn’t take long and Sherlock felt rather pleased that he had figured it out when he said, “You were being polite.”

John smiled, “We were in her space. I was showing deference to an equal within her space. Did you happen to notice how she behaved when she was here?”

“She never looked you in the eye.” Sherlock replied thoughtfully. “She was showing deference to an equal as well.”

“And?” John prompted. Sherlock frowned in confusion so John answered his own question, “She wouldn’t actually touch you. She figured that it would be unsafe to do that within my presence.”

Sherlock’s brows rose as he thought on this. John stood up. “Do you want me to wrap that ankle and put some cream on your bruises?”

“How do you know I am a Sub?” Sherlock asked instead. John said nothing, merely reached out and grasped Sherlock by the back of the neck and gave a gentle, yet firm squeeze. With that one move, Sherlock’s brain short circuited and went blank. For a moment, Sherlock felt the blessed silencing of everything and he relaxed involuntarily. He barely heard John murmur something about leaning forward and Sherlock slipped from his chair to the floor, guided to his knees by John to kneel in front of the fireplace. John let go of his neck and moved to sit in his chair again. 

It seemed to take an inordinately long time for Sherlock to remember where he was and what he had been saying before his moment of nothingness. All he remembered was peace and quiet and John. Sherlock blinked in confusion. “Why did that happen? How did you know it would happen with that spot?”

John grinned, “I’ll answer the last first. You see, but you do not observe.” He waited a moment for Sherlock to grasp what he was implying. Sherlock narrowed his eyes at John’s wording but waved a hand imperiously to encourage John to continue. John rolled his eyes as he said, “The way you hold your head up, the way you cover your neck with a scarf tightly and the way you pop your coat collar are all signals that the back of the neck is a vulnerable spot for you.”

He stood then and really headed for the door to the stairs leading to his room, leaving Sherlock to kneel on the floor and look after him helplessly. He glanced back and finished, “As for why it happened? You’ll have to answer that for yourself. I’ve tried being a Sub in the beginning of my sexual exploration on this subject, but I found out rather quickly that I couldn’t react properly. I’m a Dom. I’m meant to be a caregiver and protector. Those feelings you are experiencing right now? I’ll never have them. But when you find out and if you want to talk about it, you know where to find me.”

And with that, John left Sherlock alone in the sitting room, on his knees, quietly contemplating what had just transpired and what he wanted to do with all this information. To say that John had just proverbially blown his mind was quite the understatement.


End file.
